


Warm Whippings

by DC_Derringer



Series: Winchester Affection [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caning, M/M, Multi, Top Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DC_Derringer/pseuds/DC_Derringer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are bad. Castiel teaches them a lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm Whippings

“Cas, don’t be mad. We’re fine,” Sam said from the front seat of the Impala. His clothes were still completely covered in blood, though Castiel had already healed all of his wounds. 

“Yeah, you got there in the nick of time,” Dean went on. He was also covered in his blood, and his shirt was torn almost completely in two. Castiel had healed him, too.

“The both of you are fine because I heard your souls screaming. You should have called me sooner,” Castiel said, his voice low, dark, and angry from the back seat, where he had been fuming on the way back from the warehouse.

Both Winchesters sighed, not quite able to argue that. They’d been captured by a nest of vampires, and over the course of the night, slowly bleeding to death as the vampires took their turns feeding on them, and cutting them up for fun. Despite their desperation, they never called on Castiel, sure in their ability to manage on their own, as they had for years and years. However, despite not calling on Castiel aloud, apparently their pain travelled to him anyway, and he appeared in a blaze of light, burning the vampires out within a few seconds. 

While the Winchesters were glad to see him, they were startled by the angry look in his eyes, and the reprimanding tone he took with them, calling them stupid and foolish not to call on him for help when they had so clearly needed him. They had tried to laugh it off, not make a big deal of it, but Castiel would not be appeased.

“We’re… we’re gonna shower,” Dean said hesitantly to Castiel once they got back. He and Sam both stripped out of their dirty, bloody clothes, and went into the bathroom together, to shower quickly, and also perhaps to hide from Castiel and the dark cloud hanging over him.

When the brothers came out, hoping to entice Castiel and improve his mood by wearing nothing but tiny white towels, they were worried to see Castiel sitting on a chair, still looking dark and brooding. More worrisome though, was that he was holding a thin, bamboo cane over his knees. Both brothers shared an apprehensive look.

“Cas, can we just say again how sorry we are-” Sam started, but Castiel cut him off sharply.

“Put your clothes on,” Castiel said, nodding over to the King sized bed. At the foot there were two pairs of white briefs. Confused by the order and the clothing selection, the boys still did as told and put on the underwear. As Sam tugged his briefs up, he paused for a moment, thinking he had grabbed the pair meant for Dean. But as he watched Dean pull up his briefs, he realized both pairs were deliberately a size too small. They were tight, and clinging, leaving their cocks to bulge obscenely in the front, and the cheeks of their asses to peek out from the bottom. 

“Cas, we’re just not used to relying on anyone else,” Dean started, trying to explain, again, why they hadn’t called on their angel for help.

“Kneel down, facing the bed,” Castiel said, completely ignoring Dean. 

“Look, we get it. You were worried. We’ll call you next time,” Sam added, eyeing the cane Castiel was slowly tapping against his knees.

“Kneel down,” Castiel said, slower. “Facing the bed.” His tone said ‘don’t make me tell you again.’

Reluctantly, Sam and Dean knelt at the foot of the bed, leaning on their elbows on the mattress, and presenting their tighty whitey clad asses to Castiel. They both flinched a little when they heard Castiel stand up and walk closer to them, sharing the briefest glance between each other.

“You boys,” Castiel said, his voice cool and even. “Whenever you ask something of me, I do it. I always play your games, without hesitation. No matter what you ask of me, no matter how humiliating most would think it is, I do it, happily, for you.”

“Cas, we’re-OW!” Dean started and then was cut off on his own cry as the bamboo cane whistled through the air and caught his cheeks soundly with a sharp crack.

“Be silent until you’re given permission to speak,” Castiel said, and then continued. “You ask much of me, and I rarely ask for anything. Until now. Will you begrudge me a small request?”

The brothers shared a look, and then glanced at Castiel, not sure if they could speak. Not willing to chance it though, they both shook their heads. Anything Castiel wanted, they would give to him, without pause.

“You will call me when you’re in danger. Even if you think you can handle it. Even if you’ve managed before. You will call for me before you are left unable to do so, do you understand?”

The Winchesters mumbled something like an affirmative, which did not satisfy Castiel, so he brought the cane down sharply, three times, on each of their backsides, making them cry out.

“Understand?” he asked again, and this time they nodded wholeheartedly.

“And now I’ll start your punishment,” Castiel said, smiling at the silent, bewildered protest evident in the Winchesters’ eyes at his proclamation.

“You’ve been naughty boys, and naughty boys need a warm whipping to keep them in line. You say you’re sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t believe you until I see true contrition on your faces. Dean, I’ll start with you. You’re the older brother and should set a good example for young Sam.”

Castiel moved to stand beside Dean and placed a hand on the man’s back, between his shoulder blades. It looked like it was to support himself, but really, it was to hold Dean down in case he struggled. Which knowing Dean, he probably would.

Castiel brought the cane down, hard and unrelenting, making it whistle through the air, and crack against Dean’s behind. At the first blow, Dean let out a cry, but after that, he clenched his teeth, screwed up his face and did his best not to cry out again. A few groans and gasps worked their way out of his throat, though, against his will.

After ten blows, Castiel paused to ask; “Are you contrite?”

“Yes,” Dean gasped out, breathlessly, his butt stinging and aching. Castiel reached down to tilt his head back and study his face.

“I can’t see it, yet,” Castiel declared. “I’ll come back to you.”

Castiel stepped over to Sam, standing beside him, and smiled down as Sam tried to make the most contrite looking face he possibly could, to stave off his coming punishment. It clearly wasn’t contrite enough as Castiel brought the cane down on Sam’s cheeks, with a whistle and a crack through the air.

Sam gave in more readily to his noises, gasping and groaning through the pain like a distressed animal. He jerked away harder than Dean had, and Castiel endeavored to hold him even tighter, keeping him still for the whipping. After ten strikes, he also tilted Sam’s head back to study his face, and he smiled.

“Oh, Sammy, you’re almost there,” Castiel said softly. Using Dean’s pet name for the younger Winchester was unusual, and Sam gave him an odd look, somewhat reassured by the use of that childish moniker.

“Pull down your underwear,” Castiel said serenely, and Sam’s reassurance disappeared. With a grimace, he pulled the underwear down around his thighs, revealing light red marks already striping his cheeks.

With Sam’s reddened behind exposed, Castiel went back to work, striking Sam slowly, so he would feel every blow against his bare skin. Without the thin cotton, the bite of the cane stung more, and by the fifth blow, Sam’s vision started to blur, his face grew hot, and finally, two tears slid down his cheeks in twin tracks, followed by a hard, childish sniffle.

The cane stopped immediately, and Castiel tilted Sam’s head back again, leaning down to kiss away his tears.

“There it is,” Castiel whispered soothingly. “I knew you would be contrite for your wayward actions. You really do want to be a good boy, don’t you Sammy?”

Sam nuzzled against Castiel’s kisses, and nodded very agreeably, as the cane had stopped working over his very sensitive flesh. Castiel gave him one last kiss on the lips, light and chaste, and then urged him up onto the bed, to lie down stretched out on his belly with his striped ass up in the air.

Castiel turned back to Dean, and gave him a steady stare. “Are you going to be good, like Sammy, or will you continue to be wayward?”

Dean set his jaw mulishly and looked away. He pushed his hips back further, silently telling Castiel to go on with his punishment, challenging him.

Castiel accepted the challenge, and instead of standing beside Dean, he knelt down next to him, as close as he could to still get a good angle with the cane. And then, he set his hand on Dean’s shoulder, matching up each of his fingers with the scar branded into Dean’s flesh.

“Not fair,” Dean gasped after a shaky breath broke past his lips. The touch to his scar by Castiel always made him more sensitive, made him feel more. In the midst of passion, Castiel’s light touch could make him come.

“You’re a hard case, Dean. I will take any advantage I can.” Castiel brought the cane down, and Dean let out a sharp cry, unable to hold it back as the pain struck his ass, and then sang out over the rest of his body, tingling through every nerve.

Castiel whipped Dean slowly, letting each blow settle through Dean’s skin before he caned him again. Dean was left breathless, and whimpering, but he did not cry, perhaps by sheer stubbornness alone. 

Sam watched from his perch on the bed, and slowly crawled over to Dean, who didn’t notice, since he was so involved in his punishment. Castiel nodded a small approval to Sam as he lowered his head to Dean’s face and gave him a light kiss.

Dean’s eyes snapped open, and he looked up, startled by his brother.

“Be a good boy, Dean,” Sam urged quietly, murmured against Dean’s lips. “Cas just wants us to be safe, so let’s be good for him, OK?”

Dena nodded, nuzzling closer for more kisses from his brother, and with a shuddery breath, one tear slipped down his cheek. It was a compromise, and Castiel accepted it, leaning in to kiss that one tear away as well.

Exhausted, Dean climbed onto the bed with Sam, cuddling, and nuzzling, and being careful of his behind which was even sorer and redder than Sam’s. 

Castiel stood over them as they lounged on the bed, pleased with his work, until the brothers coaxed him to stretch out on the bed with them, to share their affection.

“You going to heal up our butts?” Dean asked.

“We have a lot of driving to do tomorrow,” Sam wheedled, kissing Castiel to further plead his case.

“Take some pillows with you. It’d hardly be punishment if I made you feel better right after. You’d be naughty again in no time.”

Still, despite their aching skin, the Winchesters did do their very best to be quite naughty that night, just to show Castiel they didn’t have any hard feelings.


End file.
